In God We Trust
by jewelsjaywrites
Summary: After being attacked by an unknown assailant by two brothers, Melanie decides it's only fair to pay them back by helping them in their mission; no questions asked. Rated M for language. HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the McManus brothers; I do however own Melanie.**

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"Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name." I repeated along with the priest, who was visiting from another church. Sitting with my family, I slightly disappeared into my own little world as I continued the prayer robotically. "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory now and forever. Amen." The entire church repeated the words and we all lifted our heads to look at the priest; all except two. As everyone looked forward to listen to our actual priest, my eyes stayed glued to the brothers. Ever since they've been attending our church, I've been fascinated with them. Unlike everyone else, they arrived in jeans, plain T-shirts, and their matching black pea-coats to every service. They also continued praying while everyone was done, and when they were done, they made their way up to the alter where the giant statue of Jesus hanging from the cross was located; and they'd kiss the feet of Jesus after praying on their knees one last time. This service was no different. I watched them as they walked to the front. I also glanced over to Father Macklepenny, the guest priest, and watched his confused expression. Everyone was used to the brothers and their different way of worshipping, so everyone else kept their gazes forward.

"Stop watching them dear, it's rude," my mother whispered to me. Although her pleas were sincere, I couldn't take my eyes off the brothers. As they stood, I watched as they took turns kissing the feet of Jesus, and turned to leave. While everyone's gazes stayed with the priest, mine followed the brothers while they walked down the aisle. Once they reached the door, one of the brothers turned to give one last look to the church. But as they scanned the people, one of the brothers held my stare. For the first time, I noticed the piercing blue eyes that he had, forcing me to look away.

"Now, we must all fear evil man, but there is another kind of evil which we must fear the most. And that is the indifference of good men!" Looking to my mother, I excused myself and quickly walked to the doors. I wasn't exactly sure why my instincts told me to follow them, but as I opened the doors, they were nowhere to be found.

"Shit," I whispered to myself as I leaned my back against the door. I could smell the scent of cigarette, making me desperately crave one. But I knew if my mother would smell it on me, it would be World War III in there. Sighing, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and walked back into the church. Giving a smile to my mother, I gave my entire attention to the priest, trying hard to focus. Unfortunately, my focus wasn't on his words. For some reason it was really hard for me to focus in church but rather in the things that I needed to do that particular day. I had been moved out from my parents' house for a couple of months since I was finally able to rent my own apartment, so my day to day errands were a lot more active than usual.

"Everybody please bow your head in prayer." Happily bowing my head, I counted on my fingers how many hours I had left in the day to finish everything that needed to be done. After the service, I stood with my family consisting of my parents and two little sisters. We called each other the Charmed Ones since we were close and had similar names like the witches in the show, but we'd only refer to each other like so away from our overly religious parents. Maddie, my mother, grew up in a super strict Catholic family where they didn't even own a television set while my father was the boy next door. They were high school sweethearts and married after finding out they were having a child, me. I knew my mother had always regretted having me, but still did her best to support my father and me. To another church goer, she was talking about how children grow up fast and how it had been just yesterday that my mom had changed my diaper. I smiled at all the right places and spoke at all the right times, but everything still seemed rehearsed. What people did not realize is that living with my mother was, and still is, a complete nightmare. Most of the time she was on her anti-depressants which caused her to become drowsy and cranky, but when she wasn't it, she was a complete monster. The reasoning behind my moving out was because it was closer to my college and the house was too small for so many people, but the reality was because of her.

"Mom, I gotta head back home; too much to do today," I whispered to her. I could tell she wanted to blow up in my face, but because we were in public, she kept it together.

"Okay honey, have a blessed day." Giving my mother a hug, I flashed a smile to the rest of my family and left. As soon as my foot reached the outside, I pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. Letting out the smoke, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sweet nicotine. It was a beautiful day out; the sun was high in the sky and only a light breeze filled the air. I began walking down the sidewalk, toward the direction of my apartment. Looking forward, I paid no mind to the passer-byers who either cat-whistled or gave me glares. It was always the same thing when it came to the public, I was either wanted to hated. My long dark locks bounced behind me and picked up when the wind would occasionally stir. My dark eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, hiding any indication of me staring. It was during times like these when I'd feel like a supermodel walking down the cat-walk.

My fantasy quickly faded as I reached my building. Grabbing my key card, I smiled at the security guard while I swiped it. Boston wasn't exactly the safest of places, which was why I enjoyed living in a heavily guarded apartment complex. Finally reaching my apartment, I happily fell onto my couch with a sigh; home sweet home. The small apartment wasn't much, but it was a great way to start off life as an adult. The living room and kitchen were combined; the only indication of a room change was when the carpet turned into tile. The living room led into a small bedroom while the bathroom was very small with only a stand-in shower, toilet, sink and small vanity mirror. And although it was nothing – this was home. Swinging my legs over, I felt a vibration in my pocket. Seeing it was Natalia, my best friend calling me; I debated on answering. "What's up girlie?"

"We're going bar hopping tonight right?" Raising a brow, I had almost forgotten it was Saint Patrick's Day. Quickly thinking things over, I decided to push all of my errands into tomorrow and agreed.

"Hell yeah we're going. What time you wanna meet up?" I asked, getting to my feet and looking through my closet.

"Around six o' clock, let's meet at Sawyer's first and we'll go from there."

"Sounds like a plan chica, _ya tu sabe_." Hanging up, I held a mini dress to my body and shook my head; this was going to take a while. Throwing the dress on my bed, I headed back into my closet. Because it was a small walk-in, I looked around the small room. Thinking logically, I started with the shoes; if I picked the shoes, I could pick the matching dress. Shuffling through the countless amount of stiletto heels I had, I picked my black pumps with gold spikes on the back. Satisfied with my choice, I got to my feet and rifled through my dresses. Finally, I came upon my dark green strapless dress and smiled; nothing like getting into the Saint Patrick's Day spirit.

After I dressed into my club attire, I walked to the mirror and began my 'beauty process'. Hearing my phone, I saw a text from Natalie, telling me she was already at Sawyer's and I needed to hurry up. Rolling my eyes, I finished my make-up, grabbed my belongings, and headed out. Sawyer's wasn't too far from my building, so I began walking, waving good-bye to the door guard. Saint Patrick's Day, obviously, is one of the biggest drinking days, and because of that, there were many people out on the streets, most already buzzed. I laughed at the sight of the many college students out roaming the streets, looking for the next bar to migrate too. Spotting Sawyer's, I pulled my phone out and dialed Natalia's number, but before I could press 'call', I heard someone calling to me.

"Hey you." Looking around, I spotted a man waving at me. I knew I should have probably kept moving, but I had already made eye contact. Letting out a quick sigh, I light smiled at him.

"Yes?" I asked, impatience running through my time.

"Could I use your phone? I need to call my wife to come pick me up." Seeing no harm in offering my phone, I switched it to the dial pad screen and handed it to him. I waited calmly while he used my phone, watching him. The man spoke with an accent, I guessed Italian, but my mind was more focused on getting to the bar with my best friend that I didn't care. He hung up the phone, irritated and began walking off.

"Um, excuse me, that's my phone." I called out after him, following to get my phone back. "_Mira pendejo_, give me my phone back." The man turned to face me with a smile. I stopped in my tracks, frightened by the look on his face. "Please give me my phone back," I asked calmly, holding my hand out.

"Oh, you mean this?" He asked wiggling my phone in his hand before dropping it on the ground, smashing it with the heel of his shoe. "I don't think so." I slowly started to back away, my heels making small clicks on the ground. "So, because you were so kind and let me use your phone, it's time to return a favor."

"No, we're cool." I didn't stop backing away, but he grabbed hold of my wrist, making me start to panic.

"The pleasure is all mine sweetheart." The man pulled me behind the dumpster and began forcing his fist on my face. After a few punches, my face became numb, but he wasn't done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Connor's POV**

The day had already been rough enough that seeing the familiar bar our friend Doc owned brought a smile to my face. As my brother Murphy and I walked in, we heard the excited yells and hollers that usually greeted us when we walked in. The Doc welcomed us a different way; our normal drinks already set out on the counter at our usual spots. Looking to Murph, we exchanged smiles before joining our crew and enjoying our Saint Patrick's Day night .The entire day disappeared as we watched our friends act like drunken idiots, celebrating the one day it was alright to drink and not get called an alcoholic. Turning back around in my seat, I faced the Doc and raised a brow. The Doc gave a look before shaking his head. "Oh no, don' ya start ya little fucker." I couldn't help but laugh at his demand. Lightly hitting Murphy's arm, I nodded toward the Doc with a smile. Murphy instantly knew what I was up to and quieted everyone down. Murph nodded to me and I looked to Doc. "Not this time ya little shit."

"Why don' you…" I yelled.

"Fuck!" Doc yelled; I knew he couldn't help it with his condition.

"Me up the…"

"Ass!" Everyone in the bar began laughing as the old man sighed and shook his head.

"Hey fuckass, get me a beer." Turning around, I saw the familiar face of Rocco, Murph and I's best friend. Murph gave him a hug while the rest of us dog piled on him; the usual greeting. After we all calmed down, we were at the counter just making conversation.

"Listen boys, I've got some really bad news." We all stopped talking and immediately looked up to the old man. "I'm gonna have to close down the ba-b-bar. The Russians are buyin' up buildin's all over the town, includin' this one." The Doc yelled out his usual Tourettes words before continuing. "And they're not lettin' me renew my lease."

"Let me talk to my boss," Rocco suggested. The rest of us rolled our eyes and sighed at his offer. "Maybe he can do something."

"Wha' the fuck's yer boss gonna do?" I asked him, cigarette high in the air.

"Listen fellas, I don' wan' anyone to know so keep yer traps shut! You know what they say: People in glass houses sink sh-shi-ships." Everyone laughed at his saying before Rocco spoke again.

"Hey Doc, I gotta buy you a proverb book or somethin'. This mix and match shit's gotta go."

"Wha'?" Doc asked, offended.

"A penny saved is worth two in a bush, isn' it?" I asked, pointing out one of his flawed sayings.

"An' don' cross the road if ya can' get out of the kitchen," Murphy added, making us have another reason to laugh.

"Wha's this then?" Turning around, we finally noticed the three new men joining us. The one in the middle was a lot bigger than the other while the other two were obviously the 'backup men'.

"I'm Ivan Checkov, and you will be closing now." I rolled my eyes and looked to Murphy, who had a smirk on his face.

"Checkov." Murphy started as he wrapped an arm around Rocco. "Well, this here's McCoy, we find a Spok, we've got us an away team." We all laughed except for the Russians who seemed very irritated.

"Me in no mood for discussion." Checkov pointed to the Doc. "You, you stay. The rest of you, go now."

"Why don't you make like a t-tree, and get the fuck outta here," Doc yelled, making my group groan again. I turned to the counter and grabbed my drink.

"Ya know he's got the week's end, right?" I asked, taking a small sip from my beer. "Ya don' have to be hard-asses, do ya?"

"Yeah, its Saint Patty's Day, everyone's Irish t'night," Murphy followed, putting his cigarette in his mouth. "Why don' ya jus' pull up a stool an' have a drink with us?" Ivan wasn't too pleased with the offer since he smacked Murphy's and my drink to the ground.

"This is no game! If you won't go, we will make you go." I looked to Murphy before looking back to the Russian.

"Listen, if ya wan' a fight ya can see yer out numbered here. We're tryin' to be civil so I suggest you take our offer."

"I make the offers."

"Hey Boris, what would you do if I told you your pinko Commie mother sucks so much dick, her face…" Rocco could finish his question before the Russian let his fist make contact with Rocco's face to shut him up. I looked to Rocco who was still conscious, holding his face.

"Теперь, это не слишком вежливо, не так ли?"

"Я боюсь, что мы не можем допустить, что один раз, Иван!" The Russian looked to us confused; surprised we actually spoke his language. I looked to Murphy while we both took one last shot of vodka before both charging at Ivan, his knees being the target. The rest of our guys followed suit with attacking Ivan while Murphy and I attacked the henchmen. I began hitting him in the stomach, weakening him before throwing him into the mirror. Before he could regain composure, I took him by the collar and threw him on the ground. Looking to Murphy, I noticed two of our guys helping my brother. Pulling them off, I pushed them toward Ivan.

"Stay away from him; he can take care of himself!" As soon as I spoke, Murphy took two wine bottles hanging from the wall, and smashed them onto the henchmen's head. All three of the Russians were unconscious and I had an idea. "Get Ivan onto the counter!" We all hoisted Ivan up on the wooden counter, lying face down, and tied his hands and feet down so he couldn't move; the pig he was. Pouring some vodka on his ass, I lit a match and threw it on him, watching the flames burn. Ivan screamed as the fire burned through his clothes, the rest of us laughing. "Alright Doc, I think we all had enough fun fer one night." I put out the fire and nodded to Murphy. "Let's get out of here." My brother agreed as we both headed out, waving to everyone a goodnight. As soon as we stepped out into the night, we were greeted by a cool night breeze. "Well, that was fun."

"Yeah, we should do it again sometime." Exchanging glances with my brother, I couldn't help but laugh. "Ya know brother; I gotta say, its times like these when I'm thankful yer my blood." Lightly pushing him, I smacked my lips.

"Fuck off!" Murphy pushed me back with a glare.

"I'm tryina have a sentimental moment, brotha, an' ya push me away?"

"Help!" I stopped in my tracks, hearing a very faint cry.

"Ya know, ya should learn how to take a compliment." I shushed Murph, frozen, trying to hear the cry again. "Don' fuckin' tell me what ta do!"

"Will you shut the fuck up? I'm tryin' ta listen."

"For what?"

"Help!"

"That!" I started walking toward the alley where I heard the cry come from. Slowing my walk, I listened again. This time, I didn't hear a cry, but a whimper. "Hello?" Looking behind the dumpster, I gasped at the sight; a poor young woman lying on the ground all bloody and her clothes torn. "Dear God!" I kneeled down to her and held my hands up as she flinched away from me. "I'm not goin' to hurt you sweetheart, I just want to help." She looked at me with a skeptical look but quickly nodded. The cuts on her face were pretty severe and her left eye was swollen to the point where she couldn't open it.

"Wha' are we gonna do with her Con?" Murph asked, also kneeling down, looking her over. "We can't take her to the hospital like this." As Murph mentioned hospital, she frantically shook her head. "Okay, no hospital."

"We can take her to our place, just for tonight so she can get cleaned." The woman nodded and stared at me; I knew her from somewhere. "Wha's your name sweetheart?" It took her a little to get her voice back, but when she did speak, she introduced herself as Melanie.

"Well Melanie, our place isn't far from here; would you like us to carry you?" She nodded and tried to stand, but her legs were so bruised up, she could barely move them. Murphy helped her up and then carefully lifted her body, holding her bridal style. Before we started walking, I looked to her, but her eyes were closed and she was unresponsive; she needed her sleep.

Walking into our run-down apartment, Murph gently laid her on our mattress; it wasn't much but it was soft. While Murphy carefully situated her on the mattress, I walked to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of water. "She's so beat up," I heard Murphy whisper as I set the glass next to the mattress. Nothing was said as we both covered her mangled body with a blanket. Murphy shook his head before walking over to the shower area. I followed him, but headed to the couch to lie. Covering my eyes with my arm, I sighed. The sight of the woman was so horrifying; how could someone hurt another human being like that? Her face was so wounded that she was almost unidentifiable, her arms were covered in bruises and cuts, her legs were the same. The dress she was wearing was torn in many places, almost showing her entire body. "We're gonna have to clean the wounds before they get infected." Uncovering my eyes, Murphy stood over me, in his robe, looking distracted. "I know you want her to sleep, but all that blood is going to stain her skin and the wounds will get infected." Murph was right; we needed to help her clean up. Sitting up, I looked to Melanie, slightly scared. Nodding to Murph, we made our way over to her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Melanie's POV**

"Melanie." The blackness still surrounded me, but I could hear my name being called from a distance. "Melanie." Darkness started to dissipate and light began to shine through. "Melanie, wake up." Slowly opening my eyes, I was greeted by two men looking to me with worried looks. "Hello there sweetheart, how ya feelin'?" Trying to move to sit up, I felt sharp pain throughout my entire body.

"Nah don' move." Stopping my attempts, I looked up to the men again, finally recognizing them.

"Brothers," I whispered, pointing to them. They exchanged glances before nodding to me. "Church." I pointed to myself, trying to get them to remember me as well.

"Listen, Melanie, we need ta help ya up so we can clean yer wounds." Raising a brow, I looked down to my arms and immediately began crying. Desperately, I tried to remember the previous events from the night, but I couldn't bring myself to recollect anything.

"_Dios mio_, what happened to me?" I asked, my voice fully coming out. The brothers looked to me confused.

"Ya don' 'member?" One of the brothers asked; I shook my head. "We found ya behind a dumpster in an alley way like this." Tears continued to flow down my cheeks. "I don' mean to hurry ya along but we need ta attend ta yer wounds 'fore they get infected." He was right. Nodding, I wiped the tears away before holding onto the brothers as they helped me to my feet.

"We are goin' ta walk ya ta the shower and ya can clean the wounds." I nodded to the brother as they helped me to the shower area. Looking around, I realized there was no curtain or anything to cover myself with.

"Where's the curtain?" I asked, leaning myself against the wall.

"There is none," one brother answered. "We're gonna wait outside the door and ya can yell out then yer done."

"What's your names?" I asked before they left.

"I'm Murphy." He walked over and lightly shook my hand.

"And I'm Connor." The other one stood back but waved his hand. I nodded and slightly smiled.

"Well thank you Murphy and Connor, for helping me." They nodded and turned to leave. Holding myself up with the wall, I reached over and turned on the water. Letting it heat up, I removed my ripped dress, dropping it to the ground. It felt wonderful to not have fabric brushing up against my bruises, but as I stood under the water, my only concern was my short-term memory. With my previous knowledge, I knew it was a side effect of PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), but I didn't know what I was stressed about. The warm water hiding my skin would normally instantly relax me, but this shower was different. All the cuts and bruises on my body pulsated as the water hit them. Looking down to my arms, I tried my best not to cringe as I washed all the dirt from the wounds. Next was the soap, in which I couldn't help but glare at the bar, already feeling the sting. Sighing, I took it and began lathering; only whimpering when the pain felt like it was too much to handle. What hurt the most, though, was my face. Every muscle in my face throbbed with the utmost pain I had ever felt. Because it was hard enough to keep my eyes open, I was frightened to look in the mirror; but I knew it was bad.

When I was done, I grabbed a towel that was hanging from a hook and carefully wrapped it around my body. I called out to the men, instantly seeing their faces. Just by the looks on them, I knew they were horrified by the sight of my bruises. "I don't have any other clothes, so could I borrow some?" I asked, trying to distract them. After my question, they snapped out of their trances and rushed to get me clothes. Murphy handed me a dark T-shirt while Connor gave me gray sweats. Thanking them both, they exited their apartment while I dressed. As I pulled the fabric over my cuts, it felt as if salt was being poured in them. "I'm done!" Again, their faces immediately came into view and both came toward me.

"Do you remember anything yet?" Connor asked, slowly pulling me over to the couch. As I carefully set myself down, I shook my head.

"It's like my brain is purposefully causing me to forget or something," I answered as the memories came in fuzzy. Connor nodded and sat next to me while Murphy kneeled in front of me with Peroxide. "What are you doing?" I asked him, pulling my legs in, away from him.

"Cleanin' yer cuts," Connor answered, putting a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to him, scared. "Don' worry, Melanie, it's fer yer own good; don' wan' anythin' needin' ta be cut off, now do ya?" Letting out a breath, I watched Murphy as he took my leg and raised the oversized sweat pant. Connor lightly stroked my shoulder as Murphy doused the cotton ball with the liquid.

"It's okay to scream." Widening my eyes, I bit my tongue as he lightly dabbed the cuts. I knew he was being careful, but it still felt as if he was roughly pricking me with needles. Murphy continuously repeated that he was sorry as he worked his way up to my arms. Connor began helping him, knowing if both worked on my bruises, it'd get done faster, but that caused me to whimper. When it was time for my face, the brothers looked to each other, as if they were mentally playing 'rock, paper, scissors'. Because of this, I wondered how bad my wounds really were.

"Guys, I can do it," I proposed, making them look toward me.

"Are ya sure ya wan' ta look in the mirror right now?" Connor asked, hesitant. I nodded as they both sighed. Connor got up and went to fish out a mirror while Murphy stayed with me, sitting beside me. He put a hand over mine and moved my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"We can take care of it, Mel; it might be too much for ya righ' now." Giving him a small smile, I placed my other hand on top of his.

"I'm a lot stronger than you think," I replied, showing my confidence. Connor came back with a small mirror that looked to have been a broken piece. "Thanks." I grabbed the mirror and looked to the brothers before raising it.

**Murphy's POV**

I watched as Melanie's eyes rolled back and her body fell onto Connor. "Maybe she's not as strong as she thinks," I said, helping Con move out from underneath her. He went for the kitchen again while I finished cleaning her wounds. The cuts on her face were the deepest ones out of all, but not deep enough to need stitches. Connor came back with another glass of water, helping to clean the cuts. When it was done, Connor and I agreed to move her back to the mattress to let her sleep it off. I sighed as I lifted her small body from the couch and transported her to my bed. While Connor took his turn taking a shower, I stayed with Melanie; sitting next to her while she slept. Pushing her hair from her face, I said a silent prayer for a quick recovery. Everything happens for a reason, that I believed, but I couldn't think of a suitable explanation for the violent violation of such an innocent girl.

"Hey Murph, go ahead and shower, I'll stay with her." Connor joined me, sitting about a yard from where I sat. But I shook my head, not taking my eyes from her. "Murph, it's okay, I can watch her." Lightly pushing me, I smacked his hand away. Con watched me closely, confused.

"Don' look at me like that," I demanded, looking to him.

"Murph, this always happens, you always fall for the broken ones." Lightly shaking my head, I got to my feet and went to the showers.

"She got attacked, Con, I can't show compassion?"

"Tha's not compassion yer showing, brotha."

"Shut up!" Melanie stirred in her sleep, causing me to regret yelling. "Just drop it." Connor finally stopped and stayed with the injured girl while I bathed. Grabbing my robe, I dried myself off and threw it on. "I need sleep." I walked to the couch and laid, my brother not taking his eyes off me. Moving my back toward him, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, epically failing. My mind was filled with thoughts about Melanie, and her unfortunate attack. What would have happened if we didn't find her? What would have happened if she didn't go out, would it have been someone else? Why are there people out there that would do such a thing? I was not going to get any sleep tonight. I heard Connor moving to his mattress, getting comfortable. I turned so I was facing them and watched as Melanie's chest rose and fell. I was honestly worried about her, why wouldn't I be?

As sunlight began to pour into the apartment, I could faintly hear Melanie getting up. She sighed while she struggled to sit up. Letting my eyes open and adjust to the new light, I watched as she successfully sat up on her own, but there was still a pained look on her face. She tried to stretch, mildly successful, and she stood. Walking over to the kitchen, I sat up and watched as she poured herself a cup of water. "Good mornin'," I greeted, watching her slightly jump from my words. Turning, she looked to me and smiled. The swelling on her face went down and the cuts looked clean.

"Morning." Melanie put the cup on the counter and walked over to me. "What happened yesterday?"

"Wha's the last thing ya 'member?" I asked, rubbing my hands together. Melanie stood quiet, thinking about the previous day.

"All I remember is you and Connor cleaning my cuts, getting to my face and everything turning black." Melanie sat next to me when she spoke, still trying to remember.

"Top 'o the mornin'." We both looked over to Connor who finally woke up. Melanie smiled to him and waved, making an unfamiliar feeling show up. "How ya this mornin', Melanie?"

"I'm feeling a lot better, thanks." Rolling my eyes, I got to my feet and walked to my mattress, stripping the sheets due to the blood. But as soon as I went to take off the sheets, the front door opened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Melanie's POV**

"Freeze you fuckin' Irish faggots!" Looking over to the door, two men plummeted through it, both carrying guns. Hearing a scream escape my throat, I tried to run to the back of the apartment, but my body stopped after feeling a pair of strong hands wrap around my waist. The bigger one grabbed Connor and carried him to the toilet, chaining him to it while I kicked and screamed for the man to let me go.

"Get your fuckin' hands off me!" I heard Murphy demand as the man carrying me held a gun to his head. As the bigger man was done demanding Connor to cuff himself, I heard his words.

"You know why I fuckin' come here? I come here to kill you. But now, I no think I fuckin' kill you; I kill your brotha." The man got up and looked to me and smiled. "What do we have here? Your whore?" My eyes widened as I began kicking again, but the bigger man had a much stronger grip. He threw me on the floor, making most of my wounds sire with pain. "After I kill him, I rape you," he said to me, throwing me over his shoulder.

"Fuck you!" Connor screamed as he tried to escape from his chains.

"Connor!" Murphy yelled, desperate for our safety. "It was just a fuckin' bar fight! You guys are fuckin' pussies!" They led us down the stairs of the apartment building and the bigger Russian began to laugh while I continued my kicking and screaming for him to let go. "Everything is going to be okay Melanie," Murphy promised. As soon as he spoke, I instantly stopped. Nodding to him, I stopped my kicking and reached out my hand to Murph.

"Pinky promise?" I whispered. I watched as a smile grew on his face and he reached out to promise me. But before our fingers could lace together, we reached the outside and the Russian dropped me to the ground, again, making me yell in pain. Pushing Murphy to the ground on his knees, the bigger Russian demanded his henchman to move me deeper into the ally and start. I tried to crawl away, but he caught me as the other pulled his gun out, pointing it to Murph. The smaller Russian took me by the neck, putting pressure in all the wrong places. As I tried to fight him off, I looked up to the sky and noticed something almost unbelievable. "Connor!" The Russian looked up while Connor jumped from the roof of the apartment. Realizing Connor would fall on the Russian, who would then fall on me; I rolled over and dodged the men. Looking to Murph's situation, the toilet Connor was holding fell hard onto the Russian's head, knocking him down. Getting to my feet, I kneeled down next to Connor, shaking him, but he didn't wake. "Murph, he won't wake up!" I watched as Murph collected everything that was on the Russians, stuffing their belongings in a bag.

"Hold the bag while I carry him." Nodding, I grabbed the green bag and helped Murph throw his brother over his shoulder.

"Where are we going?" I asked him, realizing he wasn't going back inside the apartment. Murphy didn't answer but instead continued walking as if he didn't hear me. "Well?" I asked, stopping in front of him. Murph looked annoyed but he stopped and sighed.

"We're going ta the hospital," he finally answered before he continued to walk. Shit!

As we made our way to the hospital, there were so many thoughts going through my head. A part of me wanted to drop the bag and just get the hell away from the hospital; how could I abandon the two men that saved my life? Letting out a soft sigh, the hospital continued to grow bigger into view. Murphy glanced in my direction, breathing heavily. His courage and strength inspired me; helping an injured girl then getting attacked by Russians and now carrying his brother this far to the hospital. As I continued to think about it, I realized if he had the strength to do it all, I could face my father.

Jared Francesco, one of Boston's great doctors, and father of mine. It didn't matter which hospital I went to, as soon as they recognized my last name, the nurse would immediately call my father. Normally any child wouldn't mind having their parents being called after something so horrific happened that they can't remember, but I knew better with my family. I could already hear my mother's words about how I'm not responsible enough to live on my own and I need to move back ASAP. This lecture was one that I wanted to avoid, but I also knew it was inevitable. Walking up the stairs of the hospital, I helped Murphy with Connor; he woke. Making sure he was okay, I then looked to the hospital doors and noticed the familiar face of my father. Letting out a sigh, I looked to the brothers and gave them a small smile. "Looks like this will be the end of the road for us boys." The brothers gave me a confused look before my father came down to help, giving me a hug. I let out a small hiss of pain as my wounds flamed against the fabric. Hearing this, he quickly pulled away and led me up the hospital stairs. I looked back to the brothers as I was being whisked away and gave them a wave. The look on Murphy's face struck a nerve. "Make sure they get looked at immediately," I told my father. He nodded, snapping at the nurses to get to work.

As he led me into a hospital room, I robotically climbed onto the hospital bed. "What happened?" he asked frantically. Letting my head fall into my hands, I groaned, waiting for the fireworks to happen. My father continued yelling in worry and anger while I drowned everything out. I had gotten really good at that over the years, and it quickly got old. Finally, after five minutes of him yelling, I raised my hand. "What!"

"Shouldn't you be more worried about checking my wounds then scolding me?" I asked softly. This angered my father. Instead of listening to me, my suggestion resulted in a back hand. The sting was amplified due to the cuts on my face, and I held my head tightly in my hands.

"Do not speak to me like that!" He stormed out of the room, masking his anger. Looking to a nurse, he told her to take care of my cuts and bruises. When she walked in I turned my face, refusing to let her see the extra damage my father had added. For a brief second, I felt like a child again with the way I flinched from the nurse. Everything in me wanted to just push her away, push my way through the hospital, and just run away. But as soon as that thought had risen, my mind had shot to the brothers.

"Are the two men I came with okay?" I asked her almost breathless. The nurse nodded and that's when I jumped from the hospital bed and out the room. Rounding the corner, I spotted the brothers as they were speaking with an older man. Their wounds were already bandaged up and Connor looked well enough to be released. As I continued to watch the brothers, Murphy looked toward my direction and instantly smiled. While the older man left, Murphy made his way over to where I was and wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm happy yer okay," he told me before pulling away. He looked to my face and noticed the red hand print located on my cheek. "Wha's tha from?" Murph asked, tracing it with his finger. Snapping away, I shrugged it off and changed the subject by saying hello to Connor as he decided to join us.

"Wha are we ta do now, Murph?" Connor asked his brother, holding onto the wall. Murphy shrugged, still looking to my cheek but finally looked away when I gave him a look.

"Looks like we're gonna have ta go ta the police station," he answered, looking to Connor. I raised a brow, wondering what the subject of the conversation was with the old man. "Think about it Con, they think it was self-defense and tha's exactly what it was, so why not get e'erythin' over with by tellin' them the truth?" This obviously convinced Connor since he nodded in agreement. Raising a brow, I wondered where that would leave me with them; would I go with or would they leave me here? My questions were answered when Connor looked to me and asked. "Are ya comin'?" With a thankful smile on my face, I nodded. Before I could set foot out the door, I felt a hand on my shoulder and there she was, my mother.

"You're not going anywhere."

"Mom." I stared at her, frightened by the fact that she was at the hospital. My mother was a stay home mother; she only left the house to grocery shop and go to church. "What are you doing here?" She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot.

"Your father called me and told me what happened; how dare you be so irresponsible." I raised a brow at my mother wondering what my father told her. "Say good-bye to your friends, Mel, you're coming home with us." Grabbing my arm, she pulled me toward her and my father, away from the brothers. Looking back to them with pleading eyes, I watched as they did nothing to prevent my parents from taking me. Leading me into a hospital room, my mother pushed me on the bed and scuffed.

"You're such a whore, you know that? Hanging out with the brothers from church, what would the church say if they saw you?" I stayed where I was, looking down to my hands. I never understood how my mother had so much power, even after all these years, to make me feel like a child. "I told you to stay away from them, did I not?" They just stood there - why did they just stand there? Did they not care? They had to if they took me to their home to take care of me. Should I be mad at them or not? "Are you listening to me?" Raising a brow, I looked to my mother.

"Yes," I answered her. After my words, she lifted her hand and brought it down to my face, creating a fierce sting among my cuts.

"Yes what?"

"Yes ma'am," I corrected, holding my cheek, fighting the urge to let the tears fall. Looking satisfied, she walked to the nurse that stood in the corner of the room and gave her permission to attend to my wounds again.

**Connor's POV**

Watching as her parents walked her away; I could feel Murphy begin to tense. Holding onto his shoulder, I didn't let him fight. As she looked to us, pleading, I looked away, trying hard to not give in. After she was out of view, Murphy turned to face me, glaring. "Why didn' ya let me fight fer her?" he asked aggressively. "She obviously needed help."

"'Cause yer no Romeo, Murph, you can' fight her parents. Besides, we 'ave bigger problems an' she shouldn' be part of it." I hoped Murph would understand. But as my words buzzed around in his head, it grew clear that he saw my point. "Now tha that's settled, let's go to the police station and clear this up." Nodding in agreement, Murphy placed my arm around his shoulders and helped me walk with him. As we walked out from the hospital, we received many puzzled looks. I could have only imagined what they were all seeing; two bandaged men walking with nothing but blood stained robes and bandages all over. The police station wasn't too far from where we were so Murph continued to help me walk. When the police station came into view, I let out a sigh of relief.

"Jus' a little more ta go brotha," Murph reassured me. As we climbed the stairs to the station, I felt immense pain shooting up from my knee, but Murph held onto me. Opening the door, Murph and I looked to the group of officers, but spotted one staring at us in amazement.

"So the only thing we can do is put a potato on a string and drag it through South Boston, and thanks for coming out."

"You'd probably have better luck with beer," Murph corrected him. As soon as Murphy spoke, all eyes in the entire room were on us. After I agreed with my brother, all eyes were back on the man with a suit on; I assumed he was the man in charge. While he walked towards us, I straightened up, trying not to show any weakness.

"Can we please get these two gentlemen escorted to a room, now?" he asked to the squad. Two police officers walked over to us and directed us to an interrogation room. Happy I was finally able to sit, I hurried to the farthest chair, sitting in it. Murphy followed by sitting in the seat next to me and be both patiently waited for the interrogator to show up. We both knew the routine – we've both been in and out of trouble with the law. But this time we didn't have to worry about getting our story straight since this situation wasn't our fault. When another officer walked in, he brought with him a box of donuts and coffee for us; typical move.

"Agent Smecker will be right with you." The officers left and closed the door behind them.

"An gceapann tú go bhfuil sí ceart go leor?" Murphy whispered to me. I guessed he spoke in our home language because they might have been watching us on the other side of the glass. Rolling my eye to him, I sighed.

"Ba chóir duit ligean dó dul," I answered back. But as soon as I was done speaking, Murphy sent a glare my way.

"Conas is féidir leat a rá go bhfuil? Shábháil againn a." Murphy stopped when Agent Smecker walked through the door, but quickly added on more thing. "Níl mé críochnaithe le leat."

"This conversation is going to be recorded," Agent Smecker started pulling out a case, offering us cigarettes. "Just answer to the best of your knowledge." Murphy grabbed one and quickly lit it, but I set mine down on the napkin to finish my donut. Just as I took another bite, Murphy interrupted him.

"Excuse me, sir," Murphy started. But instead of speaking to the Agent, Murph began speaking to me. "Cad a insint dóibh faoi na gunnaí, airgead, agus cailín?"

"Fuair muid ach suas agus ar chlé. Musta rollta Bum orthu sula bhfuair na póilíní ann. Deirimid rud ar bith faoi an cailín." Murphy gave a small nod before looking back to Agent Smecker. With just a glance I could tell that my brother was irritated with my answer – but if we spilled our guts about Melanie, she'd have to not only worry about her parents, but the cops as well. That poor girl had enough shit to worry about, I wasn't about to put more stress on her shoulders. At the hospital, her parents looked very strong, and strong they were. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I instantly recognized them when I first laid my eyes upon them; they were the church's most prominent members. Having parents like that, alone, was probably a huge burden to carry around.

"Okay we're ready," my brother announced as he sat back in his seat. Turning on the held-hand recorder, Smecker set it in the middle of the table before placing his hands on his lap.

"You boys are not under oath here. I am assuming you two knew these guys from before?"

"We met 'em las' night," I answered lazily.

"They had some pretty interesting bandages. Do you know anything about that?" Looking to my brother, I raised a brow, amused. Memories of the fight flooded to my mind while I held back a chuckle. Flicking off some ashes into the ash-try provided, I sat back. It still amazed me how tough the Russians thought they were, but when faced with us, they were defenseless. But as the memories of this morning came to mind, the smirk that had formed quickly vanished while I took a sip from my coffee. Placing the cup down on the table, I brought the last piece of the donut to my lips, taking the bite. Averting my gaze to Murphy, I nodded – indicating that he had permission to tell the revised version of the story. As I sat back in my seat, I briefly listened to Murphy, but quickly drifted off into my own world. Thinking back to last night, finding Melanie had a huge impact in both my brother's and my life. Just the way she was found horrified me that a human being had no appreciation for another human life. Even with all the cuts and bruises, the girl was still beautiful with a beautiful smile. But every beautiful smile hid a dark secret, or at least that's what I've learned from previous experiences.

As Murphy finished up telling the story, I grabbed my cigarette and happily lit it, relieving the added on stress with the nicotine racing through me. Once Murphy was done with the events, leaving out the guns, money, and Melanie, Smecker smacked the table and began speaking. "So how is it that you two are fluent in Russian?" Murphy looked my way as I answered.

"We paid attention in school" I answered with an 'as-a-matter-of-fact' attitude. Smecker looked impressed.

"Do you speak any other languages?" he asked, his eyes slightly narrowing.

"Aye, our moth'r insisted on it," Murph answered with a nod.

"French?" Smecker challenged.

"Comment pensez-vous qu'il figurait tout cela sans parler de nous?" Murph asked me in French, proving to the Agent that we were very fluent in many languages.

"Oh, that's beautiful," Smecker replied, oblivious to our actual conversation.

"Non lo so. Forse qualcuno ha visto e parlato," I replied to Murphy's question in a different language. Smecker made it obvious that he could tell we switched on him since he asked what langauge I spoke. Giving a small chuckle, I nodded toward him. "It's Italian."

"Nicht in unserer Nachbarschaft. Hundert Prozent irische. Niemand spricht mit Bullen. Zeitraum." Murph was right; no one dared speak to the cops in our neighborhood in fear that they'd get caught for something they did as well. It wasn't uncommon to see people walking away or quickening their pace whenever a cop car came around – which only made me push the idea of someone talking.

"Jawohl," Smecker exclaimed, excited about our knowledge of languages. It almost made me smile knowing Smecker was still completely oblivious to our conversation.

"Creo que es muy, muy bueno," I finished with a smirk, creating the illusion I was telling a joke.

"What are you guys doing working at a friggin' meat packin' plant?" Smecker asked with a smile. Before we could remotely even think about his question, the door to the interrogation room swung open, a uniformed cop walking in.

"Uh, Agent Smecker? The press are out there and they're goin' nuts for these guys. I don't know what you wanna do." The officer stood in a professional stance as he kept his gaze on the agent. Smecker looked to us and shrugged – a look of disappointment written in his expression.

"You're not being charged. It's up to you – you wanna talk to them?"

"Absolutely not," I answered immediately as my brother shook his head.

"No pictures either," Murph added as he flicked his cigarette ashes. "Is there anyway we could stay here?" he asked as we exchanged glances.

"Uh, yeah. You know, we have an extra holding cell you guys can -" The officer suddenly stopped his words realizing he didn't have the full authority to say. Looking to Smecker – who was staring up at him flabbergasted – he asked. "Can they stay?"

"Well, we'll have to check with your mother," Smecker started. "But it's okay with me if your friends sleep over." My brother and I both started laughing as Smecker rose to his feet, grabbing his jacket. "Time to feed the dogs." Smecker gave us a small wink before leaving the room.


End file.
